My monthly check is similar to the process of writing. Initially, the schedule resembles more of a rough draft than a publishable piece of literature. Editing is part of the process. Some months involve more editing than others. In that regard, when I retrieved a voice mail message to call our lead flight standards coordinator, I knew to prepare for a revision. But the revision was not what I had expected.
Mary explained that she had been given priority to remove me from my next trip that was to begin the following day. I was originally scheduled to fly with a new captain upgrade. Earlier in the day I had left an informational message with the new captain in anticipation of beginning his OE (operating experience). Apparently, that plan was no longer in the cards.
Instead, Mary was being directed to juggle schedules in order for me to fly a special assignment as per the direction of our 767 fleet captain, my boss. I was to call him ASAP. Special assignment? What the heck did that mean?
My boss informed me that the mission, should I choose to accept it, was to fly King Tut from London's Heathrow Airport to DFW. The 3,000-year-old boy king had been exhibited in the UK and was now to spend some time in Texas. Our airline had been entrusted to carry the entire exhibition valued at a mere $4 billion. Due to the extensive size of the exhibit, a 777 would also be involved.
I explained that I had never been to Heathrow. Wasn't a regular line pilot more qualified? Nope.
"Why me?" I asked.
The answer was simple. Very upper-level management had requested a check airman. I was qualified. I was trusted. And it just might make an interesting story for this magazine; notwithstanding the fact that my boss had originally planned to fly King Tut himself had he not been obligated to perform another duty. He would be flying to Hawaii on the first 757 retrofitted with the new flat-panel upgrade display. Hawaii? Bummer ...
After bantering about the distinct possibility of an Egyptian curse being bestowed upon me, I considered hijacking my own airplane for the ransom money. I dismissed the idea, realizing that I would probably forfeit my pass benefits and my medical plan among other things. My boss had no problems with any insane decision I might choose as long as my conscience could live with the fact that he would lose his job if the King didn't make it to DFW intact and unharmed.
I was told that Heathrow security would be on high alert and to expect even more scrutiny than normal. Considering the fact that Heathrow already had a reputation with flight crews for taking security more seriously than most, an interrogation in a dimly lit room seemed to be the only remaining possibility.
Two regular scheduled flights would be used to transport the exhibit -- a 777 and our 767. Passengers and their luggage would be on board as per normal. An exhibition representative would most likely be accompanying the shipment.
Armed with all the information that I could possibly use, I hung up with my boss and called Mary to arrange the logistics. The trip had already originated with a Dallas-based cockpit crew from DFW. It was a six-day trip for them. The crew had flown to London and laid over. As Mary and I spoke, they were already en route from London to Raleigh-Durham (RDU) for their second layover where I would catch up with them on their fourth day the following evening. We would depart RDU and fly to Heathrow for another London layover. The final leg would be to fly King Tut to DFW. The original captain would be released to go home once he arrived in RDU. My first order of business was to deadhead to RDU from my base in New York the night before the trip. Simple.
Well ... weather problems and normal La Guardia delays made the deadhead a minor nightmare, but I arrived at my layover hotel relatively unscathed. The shopping mall restaurants across the street remained open late. I was saved from starvation.
The following morning I met Pete, the copilot for the trip, in the hotel gym. He chided me for not allowing him the opportunity to go home early also. He was slightly guarded by the fact that a check airman would be his new captain. Normally, my presence indicated training. But my mission was an unusual circumstance. I explained our special cargo.
Pete smiled and raised his eyebrows. He chided me again, saying that a regular line pilot would have been more qualified. I agreed. Pete and I would play well together.
At pick-up time from the hotel I introduced myself to Scott, the relief pilot. Scott was a tall guy with a warm smile. Pete had briefed him about the mission. Scott found the mission interesting, but would have been just as happy to have gone home three days earlier with pay.
Upon our arrival at the RDU departure gate, Pete and I marched off toward Operations while Scott walked down the jet bridge to begin preflight preparations. I reviewed the flight plan paperwork and discovered that except for the domestic portion, our Atlantic crossing had a very similar routing to my European trips that departed New York. We would enter the track system at an oceanic entry point that I had already circled on the Atlantic Orientation chart from a previous flight. The forecast winds favored the airways that followed the coastline from our position in North Carolina all the way through to Gander, Newfoundland.
With the paperwork in hand, Pete and I trotted back upstairs and out to the airplane. We introduced ourselves to the flight attendants in the forward galley, shuffled through the cockpit door, and began to organize our respective sides.
Scott's efficiency had most of the initial preflight complete. Pete and I had only to confirm the route with the clearance that was received via the ACARS printer and to complete the before starting engines checklist. The whole process was finished with time to spare. Although it is the captain's prerogative to take any leg that he chooses, I was the outsider on the trip, so I thought it good form to ask Pete if he had an objection if I flew to London. He was happy to oblige.
With the checklists complete and a quick taxi from our gate, we departed a very quiet Raleigh/Durham Airport. I eased back on the control wheel, and our heavily loaded 767 lumbered into the September sky. I smiled. I was finally going to see London for the first time.
